The Malfoy Child: Changes
by elizalou
Summary: Influenced by the manipulations of Lucius Malfoy, Minister Fudge allows the wardofstate Harry Potter to be adopted by the Malfoys at the time of his parents' deaths. The first installment in a series.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

Lucius let out a cold laugh. "Minister, I have to say that this is simply not acceptable. Leaving the boy with his _muggle_ relatives will doom him to have little to no understanding of our society. And he holds a rather high place as the vanquisher of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

Fudge smiled fearfully. "Yes, Lucius. However, the people would not want-"

"I am part of 'the people,' Minister."

"Oh, yes, Lucius. And a very helpful part at that, but those who woul-"

"Minister, grant me custody of the boy, or I will not be so helpful in the future," he threatened in his silky voice.

"But, Lucius! Can you not see that the general public would riot over this? I know that you are a good man, and innocent of the crimes, but they-"

"Minister, if you do not want to grant me custody, I suppose that this ends our partnership."

Fudge's eyes assumed an even more frightened expression. "Right, Lucius. I'll get you the papers right away."

Lucius smiled evilly, Narcissa had been wanting another child, but pregnancy was not something either of them wanted to deal with again. And having another boy to push around would be good for Draco. "Why, thank you… Minister."

OOOO

Little Harry Potter didn't really know what was happening. All he knew was that some small, gnarled hands had picked him up and had him pulled closed to their owner's chest. He snuggled closer towards the warmth.

Dobby smiled. He didn't know why Master Lucius had asked him to get Mr. Harry, but he was a nice baby. Not like Master Draco who liked to throw things and get into temper tantrums, but a nice little child. "I hopes Master Lucius does not hurt Mr. Harry," he said aloud without realizing. With that last thought, he vanished from the smoldering ruins of the Potter Mansion with a loud crack.

OOOO

Two days later:

OOOO

Draco could not fathom why this new boy sat in another chair near his. And eating _his_ food as well. The boy ate silently. Draco glared at him. Just then, his mother walked by.

"Lucius, come quick! He's doing the glare!"

"Narcissa, I'm working."

Draco stopped glaring and gave his mother a blank stare. She sighed and sadly gazed back at him and the other boy.

"Be a sweet boy for your new brother, Draco," she said quietly and then left.

Draco looked at the other boy oddly. Was this a brother? What was a brother? Why was he supposed to be nice to a brother? He looked back at his food, still wondering what this boy could be doing here.


	2. Chapter 2

Kingsley pulled his head out of the fireplace, leaving the office empty but for the many sleeping portraits of deceased headmasters.

Dumbledore put his head in hands. The plan… It had all gone wrong.

The Dursleys were a perfectly _nice_ family, too. Why would anyone take away a child from a family like that? Of course, there was the matter of Petunia arguing with him about taking in the boy and her husband getting out what seemed to be a weapon of some sort as he was leaving… And there was the evidence that they hadn't put up any sort of fight when Fudge had shown up to get the boy.

His blue eyes looked up to one of the baubles on his desk. His hand toyed with it for a moment, trying to figure out who might have taken the boy. Suddenly his brow furrowed.

OOOO

Why would _Fudge_ of all people, 'rescue' Harry Potter from muggles?

The Malfoy name had, for centuries, been unknown: the name of farmers, of drunkards, of bankers, of _muggles_. But if there was one think that Lucius Malfoy was good at, it was hiding his family history.

This, in turn, made him a very good liar. And this, in turn, made him an absolutely _amazing_ storyteller.

"Daddy?"

"I am not your 'daddy,' Draco. I am your father. You are now at an age where you must call me as such."

"Father?"

"What?"

"Could you tell me a story?"

Draco's eyes shifted towards the corner of the room, knowing his father would say yes, but also knowing that he would be unwilling to tell a story to his stepbrother. But of course, there was know way for Lucius to know that Harry was crouched behind his bookcase, listening to the conversation intently. Draco gave his father a childish grin.

Lucius glared. "Do not grin in that manner, Draco. It is unbecoming."

"Yes, father."

He immediately scowled.

"No scowling either."

Draco looked up. "Could I possibly hear a story before I go to sleep, father?"

"Since you have asked in such an appropriate manner, I would have to say yes… Tomorrow night I will tell you a story. However, you must not make the mistakes you have tonight."

"But it's my _birthday_, father."

"Yes, Draco. You are one year older and must act accordingly."

The Malfoy name may have not been known, but as Draco sat in his bed with his arms crossed over his chest, he would have traded all its grandiose to be a farm-boy and hear a bedtime story on his birthday.

"Harry?"

"Yeah, Drake?"

"Why's daddy so mean?"

"I dunno." Harry climbed in next to him. "Maybe his daddy was mean to him on his tenth birthday."

"But I'm _ten_. You'd think he'd be a bit nicer." Draco lay down and turned to Harry.

"Yeah, well at least you get a bed."

Draco grimaced. "You're sleeping in it, aren't you?"

There was a moment of silence. "Yeah. Thanks."

"You're my brother. You shouldn't have to say thanks."

The two boys went to sleep after that.


	3. Chapter 3

Eight months after Draco turned ten, it was Harry's tenth birthday, and he was sure that he would get just the same treatment as previously—ten lashings from Lucius' cane, a kiss on the cheek from his mother and a pie from Dobby.

But it was different this time. Waking up in the smallest bedroom in Malfoy manor wasn't unusual, but today he was awoken by Draco pinching his arm as hard as he could, grinning ear to ear.

"What the FU-" Draco cut him off here.

"Shut it," he whispered, "Father's just out the door—I convinced him to take you Diagon Alley for your birthday."

Harry squinted up at him and grabbed away the hand at his mouth. "_What_?"

"Yeah, I know!"

Harry smiled weakly, knowing that somehow this would turn out badly. "Thanks, Drake."

OOOO

Diagon Alley was exciting, to be sure, but Harry was beginning to feel more and more uneasy about the excursion. Lucius seemed to be increasingly happy as the day progressed, but Draco didn't notice a thing. Even when Lucius sent him away to buy sweets while he and Harry went to buy a birthday present, Draco seemed to not notice the evil glint in his father's eye. Rather, he quickly whispered in Harry's ear before leaving, "Get the Nimbus." Lucius seemed to ignore the whispering and instead grasped Harry's shoulder so hard that it hurt and said, "Happy birthday, boy."

So, as he and Lucius approached Quality Quidditch—without Draco at his side, Harry was pretty much petrified with fear.

"Well, Harold, take your pick."

Harry looked at the array of the world's best racing brooms before him with wide eyes. He looked back at Lucius.

Leaning forward to his ear, Lucius spoke softly, "Before I change my mind and make it twenty lashings—it's double digits this year, after all."

Harry's eyes grew wider and he spoke quickly—Draco had told him which to choose, anyways, it was the best. "The Nimbus 1900."

Lucius seemed to mull it over. "You have good taste, boy. Undoubtedly influenced by my son, yes?"

"Yes sir. He advised me that this was the best."

An evil grin began to grow on Lucius' face. "Why, Harold, would you _ever_ assume that I would want you to have the best?"

"I only wanted to please my brother," Harry answered with a straight face.

"Before your father? Tsk, tsk…"

Harry looked up at Lucius with trepidation.

"Well, little boys who disrespect their betters don't deserve birthday presents, wouldn't you say, Harold?"

He didn't dare answer.

"And we mustn't let those little boys go unpunished, should we?"

"But…"

"Ah-ah-ah, Harold, you know you don't interrupt when someone else is speaking. But, of course, as I'm sure you were _about_ to say, Draco would be very upset with me if I were to deny you a gift on your _tenth_ birthday… So I suppose we'll just have to let _him_ have the Nimbus."

Lucius walked to the counter to order the broom.

Harry was almost reduced to tears, but he knew his brother would share with him, so he stayed silent. He could cry later if he felt the urge.

"Harry!"

Draco's footsteps rang loudly through the shop behind him. He didn't turn to look, but Draco stepped straight in front of him and looked into his eyes.

"Harry? What did he do?"

"Nothing. The broom is for you."

Draco fumbled, "W-what? But he said-"

"It's fine, Drake," he gave a rueful grin, "'Sides, you'll share, right?"

"B-but-"

"Honestly, just… He wasn't about to do anything _nice_ for me. This is- this is as much as I could hope for. That he gives us something to share, passes it off as a gift for you."

He brightened at this, "Yes. I suppose."

Lucius walked up to the boys. "So he told you, Draco?"

"Yes, father. Thank you, father."

He nodded, "Good."

At least they had the candy in Draco's pocket to eat later.

OOOO

Narcissa was sitting in the parlor waiting when they arrived back at the manor. The boys walked calmly in and sat on the loveseat while Lucius sat in the wing back chair next to his wife.

"Draco, why don't you show your mother what we bought today?"

He unwrapped its packaging reverently and showed it to her.

She nodded regally, and seemed to glance at Harry for a split second.

He stared at her.

Narcissa looked at Lucius and stood from the chaise. "Well, I must be off. Marie is expecting me for high tea. Good afternoon."

They stood as she walked from the room.

Lucius looked at the boys when he heard his wife depart through the fireplace.

"Now Draco, go run along to your tutor. I believe your brother and I have some unfinished business."

Draco glanced nervously at his brother and whispered, "Happy birthday."

OOOO

Much later in the evening, after Dobby had attended to Harry's wounds, the two were in the kitchen where Harry was safe from Lucius while Dobby baked a pie and Draco finished his Latin session. It came to Harry that perhaps Dobby was enlightened to the answer to a question Harry had been asking himself for a long time. He sat for a while, thinking of a way to pose it without seeming to threaten Dobby, and could not, so he asked:

"Dobby?"

"Master Harry, sir?"

"Why does Lucius hate me?"

Dobby looked up from his baking, then back to the pie.

"Master Harry has asked a question Dobby mustn't answer."

"Oh…"

Harry looked around the kitchen. _Hogwarts, A History_ said that the Hogwarts kitchens were supposed to be five times the size of the Manor's. Harry wasn't sure if he should believe that, since Lucius said the book was two-thirds lies and one-third half-truths, but then again, Lucius was two-thirds lies and one-third half-truths.

"Dobby?"

"Master Harry, sir?"

"Does mother hate me?"

Dobby dropped his rolling pin. "Master Harry, sir! That is a vicious lie! And you knows it!"

He smiled. That was news to him.

"Ohh… _Bad_ Dobby… bad Dobby…"

"Don't worry, Dobby, I won't tell anyone you said that, not even Draco."

Dobby pulled on his ears guiltily and visibly cowered. "Thank you sir, Master Harry, sir," he said meekly.

"But how do you know?"

"Dobby mustn't say, Master."

Harry nodded. "That's okay, Dobby, thanks."

"Master Harry is so kind, so forgiving," Dobby knelt in front of him.

"Dobby, what did I say about this?"

"Sorry, Master Harry, sir." He quickly got up and started rolling out the piecrust again.

So Narcissa didn't hate him. That was interesting. Perhaps talking to her would be best.


	4. Chapter 4

Lucius sat primly in his office in the Ministry, musing over the messenger-boy who had just come to see him.

'_They have found him, then,'_ he thought, holding his chin between two fingers. He glared darkly at his mahogany desk. _'I still do not have the power it would take to keep him in my possession…'_

"Sir?"

"Quiet, boy."

"But, sir—"

He violently glared at the pimply teen, who promptly shut up.

'_I cannot simply hide him in the manor any longer. They will get permission of some type… Override the Minister's orders…'_

Lucius slowly stood, noting that the youth was squirming on the other side of his desk. _'I need a drink.'_

"Get out. I have no message for Auror Kingsley."

"But… Sir—"

"Get OUT."

The pimply boy left as quickly as he could get his toothpick legs to move. _'Thank Merlin.'_

He took his emergency brandy from the cabinet, and swirled the viscous liquid within its bottle. Glasses clattered as he found one and poured himself a glass. _'However could they have found him? There was no violent reaction from his relatives when he was taken, even __**silence**__ on their part; there was no paper trail from any adoption, he was merely snatched from his keepers. And I would have logically had nothing to gain from thi-'_

'_Adoption.'_

Lucius grinned evilly, slowly sipping from his glass. The brandy burned his throat.

'_They could not take a son from his father. Or even claim any right to him, in the case of a blood rite.'_

OOOOO

After his birthday, the weeks passed by uneventfully. Harry had thought about confronting his mother, but not put any effort into it. And his father seemed to be back to his normal self, mostly ignoring Harry unless there was some specific way to torment him. So, he did as he usually did, spending the day idly: walking the grounds with Draco, spending time in the kitchens with Dobby, and every once in a while looking through the texts in the library.

It was a rather strange existence, but the one that he had always been accustomed to. He spent his days perhaps more in the lap of luxury than his brother did, as he did not have to endure the same painful tutoring sessions in various basic studies like Maths, English, French and Latin. Harry had been taught the very rudimentary skills that he needed to complete his later studies at Hogwarts- how to read and write, but beyond that he was completely uneducated

Often Harry had thought of asking his brother to teach him as much as he could about his studies, but knew that Draco would not understand his thirst for information. So, he contented himself to borrowing Draco's texts at night. This was something he'd been doing since father had stopped his reading and writing primer at about the age of seven, deeming the child to be sufficiently prepared. The only thing that Harry was ever required to do was complete one book of his father's choosing every other month. Father had his ways of knowing when he had not completed his assignment, and would subsequently lecture in his terrifyingly soft voice about what a very bad child he had been, then proceeding to beat the living hell out of him. It did not happen often, but it did happen.

Dobby would then tsk over his back, and with a single touch heal all of the bruises.

However, these past two months had been relatively calm—excluding the birthday incident, so completing his book was an easy task. The one father had chosen for him this time was an interesting novel about muggles. Harry had begun to wonder recently about the creatures that Draco would tell him horror stories about after mother and father had gone to their respective beds, so he was somewhat surprised when his father had been forthcoming about them—even going so far as to tell Harry of his relations to the muggle species.

Harry was not sure whether to be horrified over his blood or over the fact that he had family that had been hidden from him for his whole childhood.

And then the nightmares had started.

Night after night, countless dreams of being beaten by manic, humanoid creatures with strange clothing and horrible red eyes. He dreamt of being used as a badly-treated servant, of being slapped around daily, of being called '_that thing._'

It had gotten so bad that Dobby had started to notice the dark circles under his eyes, and inquired about his health. Harry had given him a brief, "I'm fine," and dropped the subject. Then one day, he stumbled upon a book in the library.

_Familia Cruor Ritus_

"Family Blood Rites?" he muttered under his breath. It had to be misplaced, since all the dark magic books were out of his reach. Harry hesitantly fingered the book, noting that the cover was worn and there was a dark spot on the corner that had a very similar color to that of dried blood.

He rolled his eyes, thinking how typical it would be of his family to have a book like this just sitting on their shelves, bloodstained and all. It was a tactic of intimidation and to incite curiosity. And it was working, he realized. These kinds of books, he remembered from one of Draco's workbooks, usually contained arcane adoption rituals and the like. He gently opened the cover and began to read.


End file.
